Centon One Series: Killing Time
by Punk Drunk Love
Summary: Taking a detour while on the road, John Cena wants to show some of his fellow roster members the shack in South Carolina where he shot scenes for The Marine. Strange things start to happen as soon as they arrive on the location, and John begins questioning reality when he is suddenly in the middle of a future episode of RAW with no idea how he got there.


Author's Note: This is a One-shot Centon story inspired by John's first film The Marine (2006). I don't claim to own any rights to WWE or its affiliates. This story is for entertainment purposes, only.

**Just For One Day**

South Carolina. 1400 hours. In a rental van with several other Superstars, a manager and a Diva. I only really get along with one of them...and it's not the Diva.

Randy Orton. He's an ass. Maybe that's why I like to grab it so much.

CM Punk. He hates being called by his real name: Phil. That's why I like to forge his signature on motel room receipts as: Philanthropy.

Kaitlyn. She's like a guy with boobs. I mean that as a compliment. She'd kick my ass if she knew I thought of her that way.

Brock Lesnar. Not necessarily my friend, but not the enemy he promotes on RAW. He probably only came on this ride because he likes to hang out with Orton. They both know their guns.

Paul Heyman in the very backseat. He's not the scheming weasel you see on TV. In fact, he's pretty laid back and kinda cool to hang out with, except that he's disturbingly out of shape for a guy who has spent his entire life around professional athletes.

"John, watch the road," Randy told me from the passenger's seat.

I had a tendency to get bored very easily in rentals. I liked my souped up cars that I could use to fly down the highways at God-knows-what speed. I kept looking in the rear-view mirror to watch everybody in the back seats. Punk and Kaitlyn taking random shots at each other was way more fun than watching the South Carolina landscape around us.

"You said we'd be there over an hour ago, Cena," Brock complained from his seat by the window.

"It shouldn't be much longer, now," I said, although I wasn't completely sure of that.

"You sure about that?" Randy whispered, knowing exactly what was on my mind.

Punk broke in with, "Why did you even take us on this little detour, Johnny?!"

"I just wanted to show you this cool bar-house where we shot some scenes for The Marine. You won't be disappointed," I replied.

"I don't even drink," Punk rolled his eyes.

"Then the free booze they'll give us when they see me won't apply to you," I shot back sarcastically.

Punk let out a loud groan. Kaitlyn snorted at him and argued, "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Punk! It's not like we don't have plenty of time to get to the next event!"

Before Punk could open his mouth to shout at Kaitlyn, Heyman mentioned from the very back, "The scenery outside looks just like in the movie."

"Yeah, he's right," Brock added.

Punk glanced out the window but still acted like he was not amused. Kaitlyn shouted at us in front, "Are we just going to see the bar-house? Because I'd like to see the _boudoir_ where Cena made out with Kelly Carlllll-sssson!"

She made the name sound all sing-songy and Brock guffawed with laughter. I didn't miss a beat as I shot back, "Oh yeah, you wanna play the part of Kelly, baby?!"

I made a smooching sound just to annoy her. Kaitlyn pretended to throw up in her mouth and Punk laughed out loud. Randy groaned and mentioned, "Why the hell did we bring you along, Kat?"

Punk countered before Kaitlyn could get a word in edge-wise, "Because the Divas can't stand her!"

"Shut up! They can too stand me," Kaitlyn tried to slap Punk upside his head, but he moved over to get away from her.

"Is that why you're riding with us?" Brock made a low chuckle.

"Fuck you, Brock! You don't know anything!" Kaitlyn folded her arms in protest and kicked the back of Randy's seat.

He turned around and gave her the Viper's stare, stating only half-jokingly, "I hate you so much right now."

"Smell my foot!" Kaitlyn countered, shoving her sneaker into Randy's face.

He gagged and moved away, launching into a coughing fit like he had been hit with toxic gas. Punk and Brock were almost falling out of their seats laughing. I couldn't help laughing, myself. I looked at Randy just as he stopped coughing and stared straight ahead. He suddenly looked at me and shouted, "John, look out!"

My eyes stared straight ahead just as I caught sight of a huge snake going across the dirt road right in front of us. I hit the brakes and used my skills to steer us out of harm's way without being flipped by the snake. As soon as we came to a halt, Punk shouted, "What the hell, John?!"

"I brake for wildlife," I stated as a dry joke.

Kaitlyn and Randy got it and they both laughed. Punk was still pissed as he asked, "Can we turn back, now?"

I glanced up ahead and I was surprised to see the bar-house no more than two hundred yards away. I pointed it out and said, "We're almost there."

The engine suddenly stalled and I glanced down. Everything was off and it looked like the battery had completely died.

Damn rentals.

"Come on, guys, we gotta walk anyway," I told everyone.

"Excuse me?" Kaitlyn waited until I rephrased, "Come on, everybody, we gotta walk anyway."

"Thank you," she stated, to which I rolled my eyes.

We all got out and started walking. Randy and I took the lead, while Punk and Kaitlyn kept trying to punch each other in the arms and Brock walked with Heyman in back. Randy glanced back to make sure nobody was listening before he leaned into me and whispered, "You could've taken just me and we could've made out a while."

"Shit, I didn't even think of that," my eyes widened.

I looked back at the others and whispered back to Randy, "We could try to lose them after we hit the bar-house."

Randy chuckled, then he gave me a more serious gaze like he had also considered that. We were coming up on the bar-house, so Randy and I stopped talking and I led the way up the steps to the door.

It looked exactly the same way as it was in 2006. The white bar-house where I fought a thug over a generator trying to save my gal. The swampland around it made it look more like Louisiana than South Carolina, but it still looked damn beautiful to me.

"It doesn't look like anybody's here, John," Punk pointed out.

Memory Lane drifted away from me as I glanced around and realized he was right. There were no cars on the lot beside the bar-house and the place looked as abandoned as it did in the film.

"That's impossible, this place was the joint for all the locals! It was crawlin' with folks while we were filming down here!" I argued.

"Maybe they only came around for Kelly Carlson," Kaitlyn teased me.

I was being serious. I shook my head and said, "I don't get it. The guy who owned this place lived in the attic. He should be here."

"Do you think he'd mind if we let ourselves in?" Randy asked.

He checked the door and it opened easily. We all went inside and checked the place out. The jukebox and the clear refrigerator with cold beers in it were still in the same places, but there was a sheen of dust covering most of the inside that told me the bar-house hadn't seen a customer in a long, long time.

"I don't understand it," I was completely shocked.

"They probably just built a new place. No big deal, John," Randy reassured me.

"Looks kind of homey," Kaitlyn said as she surveyed the place.

Punk went to check out the jukebox while Heyman and Brock looked over the beer stash to see if it were still good. Brock pulled one out and said with a smile, "It's still cold!"

Kaitlyn went over to see for herself. Punk began pressing random buttons on the jukebox, but nothing would play. I looked at Randy and shook my head, telling him, "I swear, I had no idea this place went out of business."

"It's okay, John. It's still cool," Randy said, but I could tell from his expression that he wasn't as inspired by it as I once was.

"The rental is dead. I'll call us up a new ride," I told everyone, taking my cell phone out of my pocket.

Nobody responded and I went outside. I sat on the steps to make the call, taking a deep breath in just to catch a whiff of the super fresh air that could only be found in a place still this close to nature.

That's when I noticed something odd.

The air smelled like sulfur.

I had smelled it before when we were on the international tour and the volcano in Iceland erupted and kept most of us from getting to the next live RAW event back in 2010. The air was sulfuric and it stayed in my nose for days.

But we were nowhere near a volcano.

I turned back to face the bar-house and called out, "Randy?"

I thought he might be able to tell me if he could smell it, too...

There was a flash of light. Really bright, like staring at the sun too long and then looking away suddenly.

It seemed to consume me. I felt like I was falling forward and I put my hands out to catch myself.

"...Monday Night RAW!" I heard Lawler's voice booming through the speakers.

I blinked a few times and glanced around.

Backstage. I was backstage.

How did I get here?

"John!" I heard Randy call from behind me.

I turned around to face him. He looked just as startled as I was. He asked me quickly, "What the fuck happened?! How did we get here?! Where are the others?!"

"I have no fucking clue, but I intend to find out," I told him.

He nodded and we turned to walk away, but one of the backstage managers grabbed me by the shoulder and whirled me around to face him. He seemed agitated with me as he stated, "You're supposed to be out there!"

He motioned to the curtain. There was an LCD TV just a few feet from the curtain showing Vince McMahon in the ring. I had no clue what was going on.

"Go on!" the manager tried to move me along.

I glanced back at Randy and he nodded that he understood. Our search for answers would have to wait.

The real problem was, I didn't really know the question, yet.

* * *

I walked down the ramp and headed into the ring. Vince was waiting for me with microphone in-hand, his expression dead-set in a way that was good for TV, but I could tell that he was legitimately upset with me. For what reason, I wasn't sure just yet, but I had a hunch it had to do with the weird time lapse between the bar-house and now.

"So, John, what would you like to see for Wrestlemania?" Vince said, and I breathed a sigh of relief that at least the Main Event of the year hadn't passed me by.

I had to find a way to get Vince to tell me the date without being obvious, so I replied with, "Well, Vince, I don't know! How much time do we have until The Show of Shows?"

Vince clicked his tongue off-camera and stated, "It's just over three months from now, so I guess we've got plenty of time."

I didn't skip a beat, but kept talking to Vince with unscripted zeal. Once he had replied, I was given a time frame. Fortunately, not much time had lapsed between the bar-house and Monday Night RAW. We were on our way to RAW when I chose to take the detour, so I appeared that only six hours had passed between the last thing I could remember and this episode of RAW. It didn't explain how it happened, but at least I had a clue to go on.

* * *

As soon as we got backstage again, Vince took me aside and asked in a frustrated tone, "Is there a good reason why you weren't here on time tonight?"

"Rental broke down. Nothing but issues trying to get here," I replied, conveniently leaving out the part of the sulfuric smell and the rapid time-swing.

"Well then, better luck next time," Vince smiled, squeezing my shoulder before he walked away to let me know it better not happen again.

I took off to find Randy. I went straight to the locker rooms, but he was nowhere to be found. I checked the cafeteria next, and I let out a long sigh of relief when I saw Randy sitting at one of the tables along with Kaitlyn, Punk, Brock and Heyman.

They all looked alive and well, but completely confused.

I walked up to them and Kaitlyn rushed into my arms to give me an uncharacteristically warm hug. She broke away and told me quietly, "We were all in different parts of the arena. We had no clue if you were dead or not."

"I would've been okay if he were dead," Punk raised his hand and countered dryly.

Randy smacked him upside his head. Punk started to fight back, but Brock stood up and everyone turned to face him as he asked me, "What happened, man?"

All eyes drifted to mine. They seemed to think I had the answers, but I truly had no idea, real or imagined, of what happened to us.

"I went outside to call for someone to come and get us, and I smelled sulfur. I called to Randy and there was this flash of bright light-" I started.

"Like in Close Encounters of the Third Kind?!" Punk argued.

"No...not like that," I said, but I wasn't completely sure.

Brock asked the group, "Did anyone else smell sulfur?"

They all shook their heads. Heyman added, "I didn't smell anything, but thought I saw a flash of light, and I heard a little bit of a whining noise, like one of those old cameras where the bulb goes off."

"I heard the whine," Brock raised his hand.

"I did, too," Punk nodded.

Randy shook his head and said, "All I felt was this drop in pressure, like I was falling forward."

"I felt that, too," I replied.

I looked at Kaitlyn and asked, "Did you notice anything?"

She thought hard about it, but she finally shrugged and said, "I'm sorry, guys, but I didn't notice a damn thing."

"Nothing at all?" Punk didn't sound like he believed her, but Kaitlyn just shook her head and explained, "I just remember getting ready to take a drink of my beer, and then suddenly I was standing in the Diva's locker room. I looked down and the beer wasn't in my hand, anymore. I started freaking out and Alicia Fox came over to yell at me for upsetting everyone. When I asked what she meant, she said that the other Divas went looking around the arena for me because according to them, I was late."

"Vince also made it sound like I was late," I added.

"I got the same reaction when I went to find Vickie Guerrero to ask what time it was. I had ended up in the hallway," Heyman stated.

"I was in the parking lot, not too far from Punk. The refs gave us the same look when we went inside," Brock said.

"So we all remember being in the bar-house. That is a fact," I stated.

Everyone nodded, so I went on, "Not all of us had a sensory change, but we all ended up at the arena at the same time. We weren't exactly near each other when he got here, but we all skipped about six hours of time in the process."

The group nodded again. Then, I asked, "Did anyone else see any of you arrive?"

After a long pause for thought, they all shook their heads. Punk mentioned idly, "It's like we all just appeared out of thin air."

We all considered that for a few seconds, then I went back to logic, "Alright, should we go back to the bar-house and see if we can figure out what happened?"

As soon as I said that, I felt my stomach lurch. Everyone else seemed just as worried as Kaitlyn said what we were all thinking, "I don't think we should go back there."

"There wasn't anything there a few hours ago; probably won't be anything now," Randy pointed out.

I nodded and moved on, "Should we just chalk this up to a creepy story we can tell people to mess with their heads? It doesn't look like anyone was hurt and so far, there aren't any consequences."

They all considered it before nodding in unison. I added just in case, "If something does happen to any of you in relation to this, come to me and we'll talk about it, even if it seems lame."

"I'm not coming to you with my problems, Cena!" Punk got up to leave.

I called to him, "I'm serious, Punk!" and he flipped me off, but I knew he would come to me if he really did have any problems.

"What now?" Kaitlyn asked.

"We check into our hotels and get a good night's sleep," I answered.

* * *

"Randy, look at this!" I handed him an old photo I found of me in college.

I was sorting through a shoebox of photos my dad gave me. He gave me a new one full of photos every year about this time to remind me of who I was up to Wrestlemania night. Randy took the photo and analyzed it with his eyes for a long time before he remarked, "You were hot."

"You only want me for my body!" I whined jokingly.

Randy replied totally straight-faced, "Exactly."

I laughed out loud and he climbed into bed with me. We made out for a while, then he reached down to take hold of my erection.

He squeezed and I felt this massive wave of pain. I cried out and looked down just in time to see Randy's hand taking my cock clean off of my body.

I woke up with a start. I was caked in sweat, but I felt like someone had injected me with cocaine and I was completely wired.

"John? What the fuck?" Randy sat up next to me.

He saw the fear in my eyes and put his arms around me, asking quickly, "What the fuck happened?"

"I had this crazy-ass dream that you ripped off my dick with your bare hands," it sounded laughable when I said it, but it had felt completely serious moments before.

"I did what?! Why the fuck would I do that?!" Randy questioned his ethics with mock-seriousness to calm me down.

He gave me a wry grin and I started to chuckle. He reached down to cup his hand over my groin as he whispered, "It I wanna take it off, I'll use my teeth, not my hands."

I let out a pleasurable groan despite myself and asked, "You think this has anything to do with what happened to us?"

"Not unless you wanna share with the group that my dream-self castrated you," Randy replied.

"No, then," I immediately put it behind me.

I settled back down and Randy put his arms around my waist. He pressed his lips against my ear and whispered, "If it makes you feel any better, I had a bad dream, too."

"You did? What was it about?" I asked curiously.

"I was fucking Kaitlyn...and she was on top," Randy shuddered like it was a scene out of a horror film.

I couldn't stop laughing.


End file.
